Three Cheers for Draco Malfoy
by Fiori Omega
Summary: A story inspired by the My Chemical Romance album, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. Written for xBeautifulTragedy's Make an album into a story competition/challenge over on HPFC. Canon, but EWE. Dramione later on.
1. Give 'Em Hell Kid

Give 'Em Hell Kid

…Some might say we are made from the sharpest things, you'd say/ We are young and we don't care/ Your dreams and your hopeless hair/ We never wanted it to be this way/ For all our lives/ Do you care at all…

"Slytherin!" Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat from where it had barely rested on his platinum hair, and Draco Malfoy walked proudly to the long table of the House he had just been put into. He ignored the jeers and boos of the other three Houses, and instead focused on the satisfied faces of his new House members.

His father would be proud- he'd have to be. Just as promised, he was in Slytherin, and Draco couldn't wait to tell his father that the Hat hadn't even needed a moment before proclaiming him a member of the best Hogwarts House, the one his father had been in, and his father, and his father before him.

He turned his attention back to the rest of the sorting. "Nott, Theodore." Draco's friend- no, close acquaintance, really, since Slytherins were supposed to look out for their own interests first, and having actual friends meant sometimes doing something for them- Theo sat on the wooden stool in front of everyone, and the Hat was placed on his head. It was almost comical, it really was. The brim of the tattered Hat slipped past his eyes, covering even his nose. But then, it just sat there. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours, when in reality it was mere minutes.

Finally, the Hat announced, "Slytherin!" There seemed to be a sigh of relief from the entire table, and even more so from Theo himself. Nott's father wouldn't have been at all pleased if his son wasn't in Slytherin House. As a matter of fact, Nott Sr. probably wouldn't be happy to hear that there was any deliberation by the Hat at all. Such was the way with the proud Death Eater parents- if you weren't perfect, you weren't worth their effort.

After the sorting and the feast, Draco sat down in an armchair by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Was it being disloyal to his new House to say that it was all too typical that even the flames would be a permanent emerald green? He didn't see the point- the dungeons where the dormitories were were still frigid anyway.

He put his quill back to the parchment so that he could finish his letter to his father. So far, he only had: "_Dear father,_"- but that was alright, because he had so much to tell him. Like how great it was being in Slytherin (despised by others for no reason other than that, and living in the cold dank dungeons), and how thrilled he was to be starting Hogwarts (not a lie), and how much he was looking forward to Potions class with Professor Snape (he'd always preferred Defense Against the Dark Arts, actually).

When he'd finally finished the letter, Draco sent it off with his owl- a gift from his father- and dropped to his knees on the Owlery floor. He'd done it, hadn't he? Been sorted into Slytherin, exactly where he was surely_ meant_ to be? He wondered why it didn't feel as great as he'd expected; the wonderful feelings of power and self importance that his father had told him would come were strangely absent. Draco shrugged it off, getting to his feet and heading back off to his new home. Maybe it was just the novelty of Hogwarts- those feelings would come soon enough, he was sure.

Draco didn't even stop to consider for one moment that maybe the reason he wasn't yet content with getting what he'd wanted was that it was never actually Draco that had wanted it in the first place.

**AN: Okay, so the first chapter is up, and the rest should be following shortly! Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review!**

**-Fiori ^_^**


	2. It's Not a Fashion Statement,

It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Fucking Deathwish

For what you did to me/And what I'll do to you/You get what everyone else gets/You get a lifetime…

"It burned." That's all Draco would have said if asked about getting the Dark Mark permanently branded into the skin of his left forearm. Though truthfully, it had burned a lot more than just his skin. His very soul felt charred and painful, as if the Mark had killed a part of him.

In a way, it had. Draco's individuality, his freedom, everything that made him who he was- it was now gone. All taken and replaced by the expectation that he should desire nothing other than to serve the Dark Lord with every breath. Which was really stupid, in Draco's opinion. Though his opinion didn't count for much, in most people's opinion, because he was only sixteen, and therefore his words didn't carry the same weight.

Being Voldemort's youngest Death Eater really wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Not only was he supposed to grovel before the Dark Lord's feet like a mindless idiot, but Draco also had to do the bidding of the other Death Eaters who thought they had a right to boss him around because they were older.

Ever since he'd been initiated into the ranks of Voldemort's "chosen few" (read: horde of minions), Draco had begun to lose all the previous respect he held for his father. It was obvious why Lucius had been in Slytherin- he was a cowardly bully who relied on the brute strength of his cronies to enforce his prejudices. In short, he was magical, but he'd fit in none of the other Houses, so he'd been put in Slytherin House because he was a pureblood.

Draco was almost to his wit's end- he was almost rooting for Potter to get the balls to go up against Voldemort once and for all, and end this bullshit. Almost. No matter what, Draco still was not to the point where he would sink so low as to bow down at the feet of precious Potter. Besides, he already was doing his fair share of groveling.

It was practically hilarious, Draco mused tiredly, that a half-blood would be leading a group of bigoted purebloods in cleansing the wizarding world. Really, how did none of his followers see that? There were no 'Riddle's in the entirety of the pureblooded histories. And Draco would know, because his father had made him read them over and over when he was younger to assure that Draco knew the superiority of the Malfoy name. So Tom Riddle had changed his name to Lord Voldemort. It didn't change his blood status, did it?

So really, the whole war was completely pointless, because no one had any actual reason for fighting about the stupidest things that didn't even matter. Getting rid of mudbloods and half-bloods wasn't going to solve anything. Most of the corruption in the Ministry was a result of purebloods like his father. And as that know-it-all Granger seemed hell-bent on proving, muggleborns were just as capable as everyone else.

Hell, Draco was beginning to see that. The pureblooded Death Eaters not being able to see what a pointless cause they were dedicating themselves to just proved it. And Granger could beat him- and the rest of their year- in practically every class.

Ever since Voldemort's wand had touched Draco's arm, he'd started to doubt the Death Eater's cause. It made no sense, and he was growing tired of it already. Draco let out another yawn, stifled behind his fist as his father continued to drill him on Merlin-knows-what.

He just couldn't wait for this war to be over- and it was just beginning.

**AN: Well, the second chapter is up! I hope you liked it, and please review!**

**-Fiori ^_^**


	3. I Never Told You What I Do For a Living

I Never Told You What I Do for a Living

…Another knife in my hands/A stain that never comes off the sheets/Clean me off/ I'm so dirty, babe/The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes/I keep a book of the names and those/Only go so far 'til you bury them/So deep and down we go…

Draco absentmindedly scratched at his left forearm through the sleeve of his robes. Having the Dark Mark at Hogwarts was, first and foremost, the most irritating experience he'd ever been unfortunate enough to get himself into. And it was probably one of the more dangerous things he'd done too, seeing as the Headmaster was the old coot practically leading Potter and Co. in the resistance against Voldemort.

He noticed Crabbe also rubbing at his arm, and stopped immediately. Until he'd seen Crabbe doing it, Draco hadn't realized just how suspicious it looked. A flashing sign floating over their heads proclaiming "Oi, this lot's a bunch of Death Eaters!" would probably be more subtle. Not that there ever would be a floating sign saying that… Draco looked up quickly, just in case. Merlin, now he was getting paranoid.

Where was the feeling of overwhelming power that was supposed to come with the Mark? It was suspiciously absent. Instead, Draco had a queasy feeling in his stomach, a seemingly unending bout of insomnia, and now a quickly increasing paranoia. Had he gotten the wrong Mark or something?

Perhaps he would have to go see his godfather before bed. There must be something in the potion stores that could help him sleep, or better yet, some sort of confirmation that he was doing well. Not that Draco would ever admit to needing assurance, especially now. But he was sixteen years old, and still in school, for Salazar's sake. No, a potion would have to do. Severus Snape was hardly often forthcoming with words of praise.

Suddenly, someone bumped into his, jostling him from his uncomfortable reverie. Startled, he whipped out his wand. Not even a second later, it was leveled, pointing at the heart of a terrified looking first-year, the words of a rather nasty hex already on his tongue.

Draco stopped, but didn't lower his wand just yet. It could be anyone, using Polyjuice potion- and there was the paranoia again, damnit. "What?" he snapped, trying not to let his voice waver lest anyone think he was scared of a first-year.

"A m-message for you f-from Professor Sn-Snape." Okay, either it really was a first-year, or whoever it was really was pretty good at acting.

Draco narrowed his eyes, dropping his wand arm slowly to his side. "Right, then." He snatched the roll of parchment from the student's trembling hand. The small boy flinched, but stood right where he was.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get a move on!" he snarled. The first-year whimpered and ran along the corridor, his footsteps resounding with the repeated echo of Draco's last words.

Draco watched him go silently, Crabbe and Goyle loudly guffawing until he motioned for them to stop. "The two of you go back to the Common Room. I'm going to go see what Snape wants."

He headed in the direction of the Potions Master's office as they continued to the Slytherin dormitories. His ears were ringing, whether with anticipation or something completely other he wasn't sure. '_Move on… move on…_' He shook his head to clear it, but he could still hear his own voice repeating again and again.

As he arrived at the door to Snape's office, he raised his hand to knock before realizing he'd never even opened the scroll. Glancing down and unfurling it revealed that, thankfully, it said to report to the Potion's office immediately. At least he wasn't a _complete_ screw up. He knocked.

"Come in," came the slow drawl from inside the office. Draco pushed open the door.

"You asked me here?"

"I did. Your mother, she told me that the Dark Lord had given you an assignment."

Draco became immediately suspicious. Why was Snape asking? Did he know anything about Draco's plans?

"You are to kill Albus Dumbledore, are you not?"

Draco only nodded in response, all the while running through various things in his head. How did Snape know what the assignment was and why was he bothering Draco about it? Didn't he know what was at stake for the Malfoy family here, what was resting on Draco's shoulders?

Snape didn't look like he really expected an answer. "If you should need any assistance, I assure you, you are not alone here, I can help-"

"No!" He almost shouted, then added more quietly, "I mean, no, no thank you. I need to deal with this on my own. If that's all, I should be going." Draco was out of his seat and to the door before Snape could even reopen his mouth.

There was a sigh from behind him that made him pause with the door halfway open. "I suppose that will be all, then."

He was relieved. No more talking about it meant no more thinking about it which meant maybe he wouldn't start going prematurely grey, even though Malfoy's would never do something so common as to have greying hair. Still, the way this day, no this week, was going, he wouldn't be surprised.

He'd already accepted that this was something he was going to have to do- it was either kill or be killed after having his parents killed. There was no way out, and the only thing he could do was to keep digging himself deeper into the metaphorical pit. So really, it was no wonder Draco was going to die young from the stress- if the Aurors or Death Eaters or Voldemort didn't get him first.

"Oh, and Draco," he turned back to Snape to see him toss a small bottle his way. Catching it in one hand, he saw the handwritten label _Dreamless Sleep Potion_. How had Snape known that he'd needed it? He blinked, startled, and headed out the door with a small awkward wave in his godfather's direction.

No sooner had he turned the corner heading back out of the dungeons when someone collided with him forcefully enough to send them both sprawling to the cold stone. Except for Malfoy's never _sprawled- _it was too 'common'. But who was he kidding; he was hardly living up to the loftiness of the Malfoy name today.

And what was with people and bumping into him today? He looked over at the person that had been knocked to the stone floor with him. A familiar cloud of chestnut brown curls alerted him that this was the none other than the Gryffindor know-it-all Hermione Granger, surrounded by at least twelve thick books.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was go-" She'd finally looked up from where she'd been gathering her books. "Oh, it's _you_." There was enough contempt dripping from her voice that it was almost tangible.

"Where are your pathetic little sidekicks?" he sneered, "And what are you doing down here all by yourself?"

The girl didn't even flinch. "Where are your cronies Crabbe and Goyle? Surely you're not wandering around without your backup, are you?"

Of all the days to run into her without any morons to ruin the moment with their anger-management issues, it just had to be the one Draco was finally feeling completely unprepared for their battle of wits.

"Just leave it, Granger."

She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously, but kept piling her books into their previous towering stack. For a moment, Draco was almost tempted to help her, so thankful that she'd allowed the argument to slip. But then he remembered who he was, what he was, and stood to dust off his robes.

"I'll just be…going, then…" Draco said, distracted.

"Right." Granger looked at him hesitantly, "Are… are you sure you're okay, Malfoy? You seem a bit… off."

Oh Merlin, was it that obvious he was going out of his mind here? If even a Gryffindor was noticing- and they were some of the most obtuse people Draco had ever had the misfortune of meeting- then it must be really bad. He had to get out of there, now.

"I'm fine," he said, teeth gritted, and he could tell she didn't believe him, "No thanks to you. Now, drop it, would you?"

"If you're sure-"

"I said leave it, didn't I?" She looked like she was about to protest, and without thinking he added in a slightly softer tone, "Please."

Had he really just said that? And to a Mudblood, no less? Now he really had to go.

Draco turned and headed down the corridor, leaving her still on the floor with her things scattered around. He pretended not to see her worried glance after him. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was merely stalking away in disgust, but he knew, he was actually fleeing for his own sanity- or what was left of it.

Scared, and more irritated at himself than ever, Draco ruefully rubbed at his left arm.

**AN: Voila! Finally updating (sorry it took so long), but hopefully you enjoyed it! Leave a review, cause reviewers get a cookie and my eternal gratitude (gee, I wonder which you'll value more… my bet's on the cookie.) Anyhow, stay tuned for the next chapter!**

**-Fiori ^_^**


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